


Scars

by pinesinthewoods



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Panic Attacks, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinesinthewoods/pseuds/pinesinthewoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford gets a glimpse of his own scars, something he hasn't thought about in years.(Takes place right after ATOTS).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

How long had it been since he had a proper shower? The last two or three years were him on the run, going weeks without bathing. When he would find a small stream or lake, many times it was poison, unsuitable for a human. The water was always freezing, and he would continuously look over his shoulder to make sure some monstrosity wouldn’t bite his head off as a snack. Now, the first shower he was taking in who knows how long, was a little sliver of heaven for him. So many simple pleasures he had forgotten over the years. 

He allowed himself a satisfied sigh as he indulged in the fantastic hot water. Later, when he went downstairs, he would complain about the creaky faucets, the leaky shower head. There was no way would he let Stanley know there was something in this rundown house he was satisfied with. Ford realized he lost track of time, the hot water was now lukewarm. A disappointed sigh escaped him. He had to leave the warmth of the shower, but he had things to do that day. Humming contentedly to himself, he stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel as he did so.  He wrapped it around his waist, and reached for his glasses waiting for him on the sink. Wiping  away the condensation on the lenses, he adjusted them to his face and paused in front of the mirror, still smiling to himself. 

And in an instant, his smile completely dropped. The warmth he felt from the shower disappeared. He stared numbly at his reflection in the steamed up mirror. His hand trembled slightly as he reached over and cleared away the fog, and his stomach dropped. 

Countless, ugly, marring scars littered his body. His chest, his arms, even running down his legs. Some slid down his body, almost gracefully, cuts from knifes and other instruments of torture. Others were large bite marks, larger than any dog or earth animal,  something vicious that had taken a piece out of him. Different scars wouldn’t even identifiable if the person didn’t know of the horrors lurked in separate dimensions. Ford remembered the wrapped stinging tentacles around his arms, of creatures that were best left unmentioned and put out of mind. 

It had been so long since he was able to observe his body clearly in a reflection. Most of the time he had been fully clothed. The scars themselves weren’t a surprise, he had even worn one or two as badges of honor. It was the sheer _amount_ of them. He had lost count of the injuries he sustained over the years, and now seeing them all at once caused his breath to quicken, and his face to pale.. It looked like his torso was used as a scratching post for a lion.   
He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and the full weight of the years that had gone by crashed onto his shoulders.  

Ford clutched the sides of the sink, trying to breathe evenly, still staring at his reflection through his cracked lenses. Some of the scars he didn’t even remember receiving. And when he looked at others he could feel the phantom pain run through his limb, hear the unearthly howl of a creature, the cruel laughter as a knife cut into flesh, even as he screamed for them to stop… 

Ford had his full weight on the sink now, it was the only thing that kept him from collapsing.  The entire bathroom was tilting around him. He shut his eyes against the reflection, trying desperately to remain present, to not lose himself to the panic welling up inside. A sudden dull thumping on the door caused him to jump, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“HEY! Poindexter! Ya done in there? Some of us have to use the john!” 

_Oh no…_ “Uh..um, yeah, S-Stanley, give me a moment… ”

“You better not have used up all the hot water!”

“You’ll just have to live with it,” he snapped, he was in no mood for a squabble with his brother right now. Suddenly, he realized with a sense of dread that the shirt he had to change into was short-sleeved. He hadn’t  even considered wearing something long-sleeved. All his clothes were back in his old room.  
 _Oh shit, SHIT…._ he couldn’t have Stanley seeing him like this… 

He glanced around wildly, maybe he could cover his arms with another towel… he realized Stanley had been talking to him for the last minute, he had completely zoned out.

“HEY! If you don’t answer, I’m waltzin’ right in!” _No!_ Ford scrambled over to the door to hold it closed. _Why didn’t this idiot install a lock on the bathroom door?_ His feet suddenly slipped on the slick ground and he fell, catching his head on the sink on the way down. He let out a short cry of pain which he immediately clamped down on. He scrambled back to his feet, grasping his ringing head. _Dammit, that’s going to leave a bump._

There was a pause outside the door. Then Stanley’s worried voice asked, “Uh… Ford, you okay in there?”

“YES, Stanley… I’m PEACHY,” he growled, still clutching his head. 

“Look, I’m coming in, ya better be at least half-way decent…”

“Stanley, don’t, _please_ …” _He can’t see me like this! He can’t see these scars!_

His brother had already opened the door and stepped into the bathroom. He waved a hand through the steamed-up air. “Yeesh, did you make a sauna in here or what? How much hot water did you…"  

Then he stopped and stared at Ford, eyes widening in shock.  His mouth dropped open, and his jaw worked itself, as if trying to say something, but he didn’t. The silence extended and Ford stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had. His arms were hugged tightly around himself, which was a useless attempt to hide his scarring from his brother. Ford suddenly felt a creeping shame flush his face, and he loathed it, he _hated_ feeling like this, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Stanford… what…” Stanley swallowed, his expression going from shock to dismay. He took a step forward, a hand half-extended as if he wanted to help, but what could he do? He lowered his arm and stood again in silence. After another moment  he made a distressed noise and spoke, his voice small and quivering. 

“I..I didn’t know, Ford…”

“Oh _course_ you didn’t know! How could you know? Even I didn’t realize how many of these things I had until just now!” Ford’s voice was shaking terribly, and he took a step back from Stanley. His heart was beating painfully against his ribs, it felt like the walls were closing in on him. “Don’t ask me, Stanley! Don’t ask me what happened in that hellhole to cause these,” Ford snarled, his entire body tense and trembling. “Just… just _keep away from me_!” He realized he had backed up into a corner of the bathroom, away from his twin and his hands were raised, ready to defend himself. 

“Woah, woah, easy there…” Stanley soothed, his voice was more gentle than Ford had ever remembered. “It’s okay, Ford… I’m … I’m not gonna hurt you.” Stanley’s hands were raised in a placating gesture, and he was keeping his distance. It was as if he were talking to a hurt wild animal. It did the trick though, because Ford lowered his arms from their defensive positions, and blinked. He was surprised how that was such an automatic response for him. 

Stanley watched him carefully and took a step forward, still holding out his hands so they were visible to Ford. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna ask what went on in there… not if you don’t wanna…”

Ford felt himself relax considerably, and he closed his eyes. He worked on slowing his racing heart, and wrapped his arms tightly around himself again.   

“I.. I didn’t mean to…. the last thing I wanted was for _you_ to see this…” he mumbled, staring at the ground. He felt so _stupid_ , so childish. Stinging tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and he was suddenly very glad he had just taken as shower. He couldn’t shake that initial expression of shock and dismay that crossed his brother’s face. Why did Stanley still care after everything Ford had said to him?

Ford watched the water drip from hair and nose and splash onto the tiled floor. He heard Stanley sigh heavily. “Ford, if..if there’s somethin’ I can do… jus’ tell me. I’ll help how I can.” His words were halting, yet something about them rang with a resoluteness Ford knew he could believe. 

“I know we’re fightin’ or whatever but… ” The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. They were both silent for another moment.  Ford finally raised his head to look at his brother, who gazed back at him with an expression etched with care and concern. Ford quickly averted his eyes. He really didn’t deserve his brother’s worry right now. Ford found his voice and muttered, “Thank you, Stanley.” 

Stanley’s eyes widened at the words ‘thank you’, but he didn’t say anything else. That took Ford by surprise, he had expected Stanley to gloat. 

Ford cleared his throat. “Can you… go into my room. In one of the drawers there should be a red turtleneck sweater. I don’t… I don’t want the kids…” He didn’t have to say anything else. Stanley just gave a quick nod and was gone from the bathroom. 

Ford sighed and picked up another towel, and worked on drying his damp hair,  as well as the rest of his body. The towel was slightly scratchy, but overall it felt nice on his bare skin, another daily luxury he had missed. He pulled on his underwear and pants, so at least half of his body was covered. Feeling a bit better now, he paced in front of the mirror, compulsively rubbing his hands over his arms. He felt the puckered skin around his scars, and traced his fingers over them.

 _“I know we’re fightin’ or whatever but… ”_ Stanley’s unfinished words echoed in Ford’s mind. … _but we’re still family_ , he finished. Then he furiously scrubbed the thought away. They weren’t family anymore. Stanley had stated it blatantly, and Ford had written his brother off. 

Stanley cautiously re-entered the bathroom, the red turtleneck sweater clutched in his hands. “Here ya go. Hopefully there’s no mothballs or nothin’. I didn’t really clean anything in your room for thirty years so…"  

Ford took it graciously, and quickly pulled it over his head. It was a bit scratchy and definitely smelled like mothballs, but that was nothing a good washing couldn’t fix. He observed his tired reflection in the mirror, Stanley standing a little behind him. Two weary old man, similar in appearance and next to each other, but they felt miles apart. 

Ford sighed and adjusted his turtleneck. Every part of him was covered now, and he felt an immense sense of relief wash over him. It was almost like putting on armor.

"That should do the trick,” he sighed. Stanley looked at him for a moment with a indecipherable expression. The he turned to leave. 

“Breakfast’ll be in a few,” he grunted. “Mabel wants to treat you to some of her ‘special breakfast Mabel surprise’, so good luck with that.” With that ominous note, he left the bathroom.

Ford chuckled to himself, and turned back to the mirror. He adjusted his cracked glasses and combed a hand through his damp hair. _Maybe things would work out okay… maybe… NO_. 

He squashed the thought before it had a chance to bloom. Everything that happened between him and his brother couldn’t mend quickly. The hurt ran too deep. He took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom to join Stanley and the kids in the kitchen. No matter what inkling of hope he had, he learned that it was better to crush it first, before he got crushed.  The wounds between him and his brother still ran fresh and deep. Unlike the scars that blemished his body, these wounds were something that time did not heal.


End file.
